Chapter One: Learning Secrets
Title: Learning Secrets
Characters: Megan Jones, random OC girl (only mention of Zach Smith in this first part)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1926
CD & Song: JoJo - Keep On Keepin' On (for ficalbum
Young girl sittin' on the steps of her duplex / Why you gotta choose to make my life so complete / Breathing to the beat of a slow, sad drum / Trouble leaves some moments for some fun / I can almost guarentee you / I'll get better today
Lookin' out the window to a rose grows in concrete / Dreamin' of the day when you'll be standing on your own freet / Hard to find the good in such a scene so bad / ... / Longin' for a day when you get your chance to shine / Don't worry, there'll come a time.
Author's Note: This is a continuation of "As the Badger Growls" but can be technically read alone in this "new" series I'm writing for ficalbum.
Everywhere she looked these days, Megan saw people in need. At first, she hadn’t noticed them because her heart and mind had been centered on herself. Now, everything was different.
“Candace, don’t even think of running off. Your mum will be here any second. Why don’t you go play with Melvin on the swings?”
The pretty little girl was all frowns and crossed arms as she looked up at the equally pretty girl with curls that rioted around her head and flowed down her back. She looked just like every fairy tale princess that they’d ever heard about in story time. Whatever she wanted, she made happen. Even making Candace play with Melvin, the freckled face little boy who pulled her braids whenever he got a chance. In her best grown up voice, Candace laid down the rules to him as they walked across the grassy area.
Megan smiled after them, astonished that they’re only worry was how many games they’d be able to play before snack time. It seemed so long ago that she was that innocent. That time felt as if it had happened over a hundred years ago even though her last years at Hogwarts were only five years away.
“Me mum said for me and Margie to be home straight at five of the clock. She said not to Floo as it would only add to the dirt in the front room. Besides, she says, we can walk home on our own two legs the same as any other person around. No call to show airs just because we’ve Magic in us.”
Megan glanced down at the girl who had settled in next to her on the bench. Her hair was plaited awkwardly into a braid down her back, held in place with a bit of gray string. The clothes she wore were clean but mended in many places. Clearly they had belonged to someone before they had been Rilla’s; someone who was a much taller and broader in the shoulders.
“I would rather you didn’t walk home alone, Rilla. I know you can take care of yourself but I’d feel better if I walked you home. Just to make sure you got there safely. You never know what you’ll run into these days.”
Rilla scoffed, her young face with the old eyes twisting in a scowl. “What can you do to protect us? You’ll just draw their attention to us.”
“I have my wand.” To prove her point, Megan tapped her waist where the shaft of wood rested in its carrying case that hung from her belt. There was no need to hide it. Muggles were used to seeing such sights these days. The war had been more widespread than the Ministry of Magic had intended it to be and witches and wizards had been forced to show themselves. Seeing wands in Muggle areas was common now, although many of the older folks still kept theirs hidden as they always had.
“And what’ll a wand do if someone hits you from behind. You wear a lot of real pretty jewelry that sparkles. It fair catches the eye, it do. If someone wants it bad enough, they’ll come after it no matter if you have a pretty wand at your waist or no.” Rilla’s eyes sparkled with contempt. “No, Margie and I will get home by ourselves. I don’t know if we’ll come back. Mum doesn’t like that we waste our time here when we could be helping her out with her cleaning.”
This was not the first time that Rilla had brought this threat up. Megan didn’t doubt that Mrs. Gobal often gripped about her children coming to the day camp that had been set up in the heart of Turner’s Down. Many of the parents were unhappy about the work that was done here, letting their children come only after much persuasion. Until the wizarding school in Britain was rebuilt and the children received their official acceptance letters, many of the families in these surrounding areas were intent on surviving with one or two extra mouths to feed.
“Where is your father?” Megan knew better than to ask such personal questions of the children she worked with but no one had been able to find out any information on the Gobals, other than their first name and approximate birth dates.
Rilla’s chin raised up until she was glaring straight into Megan’s eyes. “He’s dead. A wizard killed him. Me mum told us that he was fighting in the war and got caught in a trap. It weren’t a bad wizard that did it, either. It was a good one.”
It seemed obvious that the girl wanted Megan to ask the next question even though she was aware that she might not want to hear the answer. “Who killed him?”
“Remus Lupin. The one that is in charge now. Everyone loves him. Mum says that Da loved him, too. He was the reason he went to fight.”
Megan swallowed convulsively as she tried to word this question just right. The blanks in the Gobals record made more sense now. As did their absences. “Was your father a werewolf like Remus?”
Rilla held her gaze even though there was fear in her eyes to nudge out some of the anger. “No.”
“Is your mother a…” Megan didn’t want to know the answer to this. Not at all. She’d had enough of werewolves to last her a good long time. “A werewolf?”
There was a slight lowering of Rilla’s chin before it snapped back up again. “Da was so forever glad that Remus was willing to let werewolves become real citizens that he would have followed him to the ends of the earth. Mum says he used to go on and on about how Remus would make it so that he and Mum could be married someday in a real church. But then he died and Remus forgot all about the promises he’d made to him. Mum said that they came after her the next day, ready to take her away from us but she’d have none of that, she said. Her girls need at least one parent.”
Megan felt sick. Rilla wasn’t holding any of this pent up emotion hostage anymore. For years, this little girl must have been sick every time she saw a poster with Remus’ face on it. No wonder she didn’t want to be here in a Ministry run facility. How she must hate them all.
“Snack time!” The children all let out a cheer and ran for the open doorway where Terry held the bags of apples and biscuits over his head. Because Terry was always the one in charge of snack time, there was always apples (even when they weren’t really in season and were mushy) and there were always biscuits (not even the chocolate kind but a ginger and orange combination that he claimed were more healthy for growing bodies). Pomona had talked about giving the duty to someone else but never had. It was easier to leave the status quo alone and concentrate on taking care of the children.
Neither Rilla nor Megan got up to join the crowd. Rilla swung her feet back and forth as if she didn’t have anywhere else she needed to be. If she didn’t, Megan didn’t either. The others could adequately make sure the kids were all fed. It would serve Terry right to have to help.
“Have you ever met Minister Lupin?” Megan asked, certain that this little girl had never set her eyes on this man who she felt ruined her life.
“Yes.” The braid bobbed as she nodded her head emphatically. “It was when I was only as old as Margie but I remember. He picked me up and spun me in the air. Da was laughing, his smile wider than I’d ever seen it before. And then he died. Mum never laughs and she gets angry when Margie laughs. She says she sounds just like him.” She spits out the word “him” as she must hear her mother say it over and over again.
Suddenly, Megan didn’t want to discuss this anymore. The conversation was making her sick to her stomach. It made her realize that the war had started as many conflicts as it had ended. Even though evil incarnate in one man had been destroyed, there was still the pain and ache of hunger and disease and anger.
“What do you want to do when you grow up, Rilla? Do you want to be a teacher or a Quidditch player or a shop owner?”
The girl scoffed, her face once again set in a scowl. “Why would I want to be something like that? What a stupid question.”
Megan could tell there was a dream hidden somewhere within this bitter girl. With a sigh, she leaned back on her arms so that she could stare up at the sky. It was pale blue today and there were a few small clouds. Perfect flying weather. Too bad she was down here on the ground.
“I’ve always wanted to be a Quidditch player. For as long as I can remember, that’s been my dream. Did you know, when I was about your age, I fell from a tree and had a horrible fear of heights? Not a good way to start off achieving that dream. I had to work very hard-“
“Why didn’t you just want to be something else?”
It was hard not to laugh. “Just like that? Something new? No, it doesn’t work that way. I wanted to be a Quidditch player. That was that. I had a friend who actually was on a team for a while. A real team, mind you. He was a Chaser.”
Rilla’s feet were still pumping but she’s leaned back on her hands as well. It’s the most relaxed Megan’s ever seen her. A good thing? Perhaps.
“Have you ever heard of the Falmouth Falcons?” She doesn’t wait for Rilla to decide if she’s going to play along. If she’s going to talk about Zach, she’s not going to let this little girl’s old eyes deter her from reliving the past. “They wear gray and white with these pretty silver falcons on the front. Of course, Zach always hated it when I called them pretty. Falcons are supposed to be tough. And they are. Have you ever seen a falcon? There aren’t many in this area but they’re predators. They dive from the sky to pick up their dinner as it scuttles around on the ground.”
No matter that she hasn’t said anything, Megan can tell that Rilla is paying attention. She’s been around the kids enough to know when she’s getting through.
“He was only able to play for a year before the war started but he had quite a run. His name is in the official Quidditch book for most steals during a game. He took the Quaffle out of the hands of his opponents seventy six times. Seventy six! I was at that game. It was amazing!”
“How could-“
“I’m telling you, I was there. I saw it with my own eyes. And it’s an official book. They don’t lie in those kinds of things.” Megan didn’t care if Rilla gave her lip but she wasn’t about to have this little girl disparage Zach. Not her Zach. She wasn’t sure if he really was hers anymore after the way they left each other last, but she still had those stories of the past.
Characters: Megan Jones, random OC girl (only mention of Zach Smith in this first part)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1926
CD & Song: JoJo - Keep On Keepin' On (for ficalbum
Young girl sittin' on the steps of her duplex / Why you gotta choose to make my life so complete / Breathing to the beat of a slow, sad drum / Trouble leaves some moments for some fun / I can almost guarentee you / I'll get better today
Lookin' out the window to a rose grows in concrete / Dreamin' of the day when you'll be standing on your own freet / Hard to find the good in such a scene so bad / ... / Longin' for a day when you get your chance to shine / Don't worry, there'll come a time.
Author's Note: This is a continuation of "As the Badger Growls" but can be technically read alone in this "new" series I'm writing for ficalbum.
Everywhere she looked these days, Megan saw people in need. At first, she hadn’t noticed them because her heart and mind had been centered on herself. Now, everything was different.
“Candace, don’t even think of running off. Your mum will be here any second. Why don’t you go play with Melvin on the swings?”
The pretty little girl was all frowns and crossed arms as she looked up at the equally pretty girl with curls that rioted around her head and flowed down her back. She looked just like every fairy tale princess that they’d ever heard about in story time. Whatever she wanted, she made happen. Even making Candace play with Melvin, the freckled face little boy who pulled her braids whenever he got a chance. In her best grown up voice, Candace laid down the rules to him as they walked across the grassy area.
Megan smiled after them, astonished that they’re only worry was how many games they’d be able to play before snack time. It seemed so long ago that she was that innocent. That time felt as if it had happened over a hundred years ago even though her last years at Hogwarts were only five years away.
“Me mum said for me and Margie to be home straight at five of the clock. She said not to Floo as it would only add to the dirt in the front room. Besides, she says, we can walk home on our own two legs the same as any other person around. No call to show airs just because we’ve Magic in us.”
Megan glanced down at the girl who had settled in next to her on the bench. Her hair was plaited awkwardly into a braid down her back, held in place with a bit of gray string. The clothes she wore were clean but mended in many places. Clearly they had belonged to someone before they had been Rilla’s; someone who was a much taller and broader in the shoulders.
“I would rather you didn’t walk home alone, Rilla. I know you can take care of yourself but I’d feel better if I walked you home. Just to make sure you got there safely. You never know what you’ll run into these days.”
Rilla scoffed, her young face with the old eyes twisting in a scowl. “What can you do to protect us? You’ll just draw their attention to us.”
“I have my wand.” To prove her point, Megan tapped her waist where the shaft of wood rested in its carrying case that hung from her belt. There was no need to hide it. Muggles were used to seeing such sights these days. The war had been more widespread than the Ministry of Magic had intended it to be and witches and wizards had been forced to show themselves. Seeing wands in Muggle areas was common now, although many of the older folks still kept theirs hidden as they always had.
“And what’ll a wand do if someone hits you from behind. You wear a lot of real pretty jewelry that sparkles. It fair catches the eye, it do. If someone wants it bad enough, they’ll come after it no matter if you have a pretty wand at your waist or no.” Rilla’s eyes sparkled with contempt. “No, Margie and I will get home by ourselves. I don’t know if we’ll come back. Mum doesn’t like that we waste our time here when we could be helping her out with her cleaning.”
This was not the first time that Rilla had brought this threat up. Megan didn’t doubt that Mrs. Gobal often gripped about her children coming to the day camp that had been set up in the heart of Turner’s Down. Many of the parents were unhappy about the work that was done here, letting their children come only after much persuasion. Until the wizarding school in Britain was rebuilt and the children received their official acceptance letters, many of the families in these surrounding areas were intent on surviving with one or two extra mouths to feed.
“Where is your father?” Megan knew better than to ask such personal questions of the children she worked with but no one had been able to find out any information on the Gobals, other than their first name and approximate birth dates.
Rilla’s chin raised up until she was glaring straight into Megan’s eyes. “He’s dead. A wizard killed him. Me mum told us that he was fighting in the war and got caught in a trap. It weren’t a bad wizard that did it, either. It was a good one.”
It seemed obvious that the girl wanted Megan to ask the next question even though she was aware that she might not want to hear the answer. “Who killed him?”
“Remus Lupin. The one that is in charge now. Everyone loves him. Mum says that Da loved him, too. He was the reason he went to fight.”
Megan swallowed convulsively as she tried to word this question just right. The blanks in the Gobals record made more sense now. As did their absences. “Was your father a werewolf like Remus?”
Rilla held her gaze even though there was fear in her eyes to nudge out some of the anger. “No.”
“Is your mother a…” Megan didn’t want to know the answer to this. Not at all. She’d had enough of werewolves to last her a good long time. “A werewolf?”
There was a slight lowering of Rilla’s chin before it snapped back up again. “Da was so forever glad that Remus was willing to let werewolves become real citizens that he would have followed him to the ends of the earth. Mum says he used to go on and on about how Remus would make it so that he and Mum could be married someday in a real church. But then he died and Remus forgot all about the promises he’d made to him. Mum said that they came after her the next day, ready to take her away from us but she’d have none of that, she said. Her girls need at least one parent.”
Megan felt sick. Rilla wasn’t holding any of this pent up emotion hostage anymore. For years, this little girl must have been sick every time she saw a poster with Remus’ face on it. No wonder she didn’t want to be here in a Ministry run facility. How she must hate them all.
“Snack time!” The children all let out a cheer and ran for the open doorway where Terry held the bags of apples and biscuits over his head. Because Terry was always the one in charge of snack time, there was always apples (even when they weren’t really in season and were mushy) and there were always biscuits (not even the chocolate kind but a ginger and orange combination that he claimed were more healthy for growing bodies). Pomona had talked about giving the duty to someone else but never had. It was easier to leave the status quo alone and concentrate on taking care of the children.
Neither Rilla nor Megan got up to join the crowd. Rilla swung her feet back and forth as if she didn’t have anywhere else she needed to be. If she didn’t, Megan didn’t either. The others could adequately make sure the kids were all fed. It would serve Terry right to have to help.
“Have you ever met Minister Lupin?” Megan asked, certain that this little girl had never set her eyes on this man who she felt ruined her life.
“Yes.” The braid bobbed as she nodded her head emphatically. “It was when I was only as old as Margie but I remember. He picked me up and spun me in the air. Da was laughing, his smile wider than I’d ever seen it before. And then he died. Mum never laughs and she gets angry when Margie laughs. She says she sounds just like him.” She spits out the word “him” as she must hear her mother say it over and over again.
Suddenly, Megan didn’t want to discuss this anymore. The conversation was making her sick to her stomach. It made her realize that the war had started as many conflicts as it had ended. Even though evil incarnate in one man had been destroyed, there was still the pain and ache of hunger and disease and anger.
“What do you want to do when you grow up, Rilla? Do you want to be a teacher or a Quidditch player or a shop owner?”
The girl scoffed, her face once again set in a scowl. “Why would I want to be something like that? What a stupid question.”
Megan could tell there was a dream hidden somewhere within this bitter girl. With a sigh, she leaned back on her arms so that she could stare up at the sky. It was pale blue today and there were a few small clouds. Perfect flying weather. Too bad she was down here on the ground.
“I’ve always wanted to be a Quidditch player. For as long as I can remember, that’s been my dream. Did you know, when I was about your age, I fell from a tree and had a horrible fear of heights? Not a good way to start off achieving that dream. I had to work very hard-“
“Why didn’t you just want to be something else?”
It was hard not to laugh. “Just like that? Something new? No, it doesn’t work that way. I wanted to be a Quidditch player. That was that. I had a friend who actually was on a team for a while. A real team, mind you. He was a Chaser.”
Rilla’s feet were still pumping but she’s leaned back on her hands as well. It’s the most relaxed Megan’s ever seen her. A good thing? Perhaps.
“Have you ever heard of the Falmouth Falcons?” She doesn’t wait for Rilla to decide if she’s going to play along. If she’s going to talk about Zach, she’s not going to let this little girl’s old eyes deter her from reliving the past. “They wear gray and white with these pretty silver falcons on the front. Of course, Zach always hated it when I called them pretty. Falcons are supposed to be tough. And they are. Have you ever seen a falcon? There aren’t many in this area but they’re predators. They dive from the sky to pick up their dinner as it scuttles around on the ground.”
No matter that she hasn’t said anything, Megan can tell that Rilla is paying attention. She’s been around the kids enough to know when she’s getting through.
“He was only able to play for a year before the war started but he had quite a run. His name is in the official Quidditch book for most steals during a game. He took the Quaffle out of the hands of his opponents seventy six times. Seventy six! I was at that game. It was amazing!”
“How could-“
“I’m telling you, I was there. I saw it with my own eyes. And it’s an official book. They don’t lie in those kinds of things.” Megan didn’t care if Rilla gave her lip but she wasn’t about to have this little girl disparage Zach. Not her Zach. She wasn’t sure if he really was hers anymore after the way they left each other last, but she still had those stories of the past.